


Beauty and the Beast

by DorasGoblet (calineadaramis)



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Fluff, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calineadaramis/pseuds/DorasGoblet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Draco wanted was to escape the provincial life of his small village and live a life of adventure and love in the great wide somewhere. Little did he know his life was about to take a sharp turn as his mother got lost in the forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - The Spoilt Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by watching the disney film a few months ago and follows the film storyline very closely, with adaptations, of course.

* * *

Once upon a time, in a distant kingdom, lived a handsome prince in a great and wondrous castle with plenty of servants and nobles to his court. The prince was an orphan, thus having the undivided attention and all at his beck and call, day and night. Although Prince Harry had all he wished and demanded – and most likely for that same reason – the boy was spoilt, arrogant and unkind, constantly complaining and dissatisfied.

  
Harry felt he had every right to be demanding and accepted only what he thought was best. Vain, the prince abhorred anything remotely bad-looking or poor and judged everything based on its exterior, never seeming concerned with the feelings that lay inside the puppets he so easily dismissed.

  
One night, however, when Harry was already thirteen years of age, a mighty storm shook the castle, keeping the prince from sleeping. The frames of his windows rattled and vibrated with the force of the wind and the sound of thunders. Unexpectedly, a loud slam sounded from the front doors – although they were far from the West Wing, where he resided – as if someone was making a great effort to make themselves be heard, knocking powerfully. Being up and in a foul mood, Harry descended from his chambers in order to end the disturbance.

  
On opening the door, he was faced with and ancient-looking man dressed in worn-out robes and drenched in water and mud from the rain. The old man was a beggar, and offered a single red rose in exchange of shelter from the bitter cold of the night. Disgusted with the man’s haggard appearance, Harry scoffed at his offered gift and dismissed him with a cold flick of his wrist, saying, ‘You do not belong here and are thus not welcome to stay. Be gone at once, for I do not want to see your face any longer.’

  
The beggar then looked at him with piercing blue eyes and argued in a low voice, bowing his head, ‘Do not judge me for my vessel, your highness, for true beauty lies within. It is the heart you should see, rather than the mask before it. If you have a kind heart, do not deny shelter to a man who has seen the woes of this land.’

  
Sneering at the stranger, the prince lost his patience and shouted angrily, ‘Do not presume to give me advice! Here, you are no one and I will treat you as such! Leave this place and take your ridiculous flower with you.’

  
The prince’s harsh words did nothing to faze the other, who replied in his ever calm voice, ‘I can see now that you do not have love in your heart and cares nothing for the feelings of others. You may have beauty outside, but inside you are as ugly as a beast. Let the horror be shown and your true character revealed for the world to see.’ A loud thunder sounded and bright lightning fell, blinding Harry momentarily.

  
On recovering his eyesight, he gasped in surprise, for before him there no longer stood a hunched beggar, but a tall warlock in rich purple robes and half-moon spectacles, his piercing blue eyes blazing with power and wisdom. His now clean white hair fell neatly around his old face and over his shoulders, his long silver beard tied in a silver clasp. The powerful wizard held out a silver hand-mirror encrusted with precious gems in front of Harry’s face and his serene voice rebounded through the night, ‘Behold your true form, O Beast. I condemn you to this appearance, harsh as your words, ugly as your heart, and all those around you shall pay for your deeds alike.’

  
Harry then looked at himself in the mirror, only to scream in terror and fall to his knees, for he was no more a handsome prince, but a fierce and horrid, vicious animal, with huge razor-sharp fangs and covered in thick black fur. His hands and feet had been replaced by strong, clawed paws and atop his disfigured head, unbelievably, were two curved, pointy dark horns, making him look like a creature escaped from hell. Even his deep emerald-green eyes no longer held beauty in them – although they were brighter than ever – but solely a killing power that frightened him.

  
‘The rose I have brought you,’ started the warlock once the prince had quieted, ‘is enchanted and will bloom until your twenty-first birthday. If, until then, you find someone to love and the person loves you in return, despite your form, you will be human again and your life will return to normal.’ There was a pause in which harry absorbed the man’s words, ‘should you fail to do so and the last petal falls without you knowing love, this,’ the wizard pointed at the prince’s face, ‘shall be how you look like for the rest of your days.’ The man then smiled gently, ‘I truly wish you luck, Harry, for the ones I pity most are those who live without love.’

  
With this, the man turned and began climbing down the steps to the entrance gates of the castle, walking calmly through the rain, though it did not touch him at all, as if he was involved in an invisible shield. Before crossing the gates, however, the warlock turned and, although it should not be possible to hear the man’s voice from that distance, Harry heard him say clearly, ‘I have altered that mirror. It will not show your reflection, but whatever else you wish to see. Use it well.’ Harry looked to his side and saw the silver hand-held mirror. Taking it, he turned it in his hand and read the words engraved on its back.

  
 _I show not your face but your heart’s desire._

  
Looking up, the prince noticed the wizard was gone.

  
Years passed and no one foreign dared approach the castle, in fear of the monster it was said to be its master. Soon the prince began to lose all hope of ever breaking the spell and closed in with himself, wallowing in grief and loneliness, _for who could ever learn to love a beast?_

  
His former life was soon forgotten and his reign abandoned, and through it all, the enchanted rose continued to bloom.


	2. Bonjour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco woke up to a loud bang that sounded suspiciously like an explosion. Upon investigation he found a streak of thick green smoke coming from the basement. 'Not again...' Hurrying down there he flung open the door, coughing.
> 
> ‘Not again, mother, don’t you ever learn?’

* * *

Draco woke up to a loud bang that sounded suspiciously like an explosion. Opening his eyes wide, Draco sat up and looked around the room. Every single piece of furniture was in place in his rather large bedroom, evidence that whatever had happened, it had apparently not been potent enough to shake his walls. Rolling his eyes at the disturbance, he got out of bed and opened the deep blue curtains that covered his French doors, stepping onto the small balcony and gazing at the rising sun. After taking a few minutes to enjoy the warming sight, the young man started getting dressed, picking up the clothes he had left on a chair near his four-poster bed the night before. Draco washed his face quickly in the bath chamber, carefully combed his short hair and proceeded to descend the stairs and check on the noise.

  
Draco was almost twenty years old now and had striking features; his skin was of a pearly pallor and his hair, a platinum blond, cut neatly to reach just behind the ears. His eyes were a mixture of silver and blue flocks and had a depth to them that few understood and some feared. The young man was considerably tall and lean, walking with a natural grace few others possessed. He was strong-minded and stubborn, extremely aware of his rights and the possibilities the future held for him. Deep inside the blond knew something great was waiting around a corner for an opportunity to grab him and take him away, and he would not be stuck in this boring and lifeless place for long.

  
Upon arriving at the front hall of the small manor he inhabited, Draco saw a streak of thick green smoke coming from the basement. _Not again..._ Hurrying down there he flung open the door, coughing.

‘ _Not again_ , mother, don’t you _ever_ learn?’

  
Through the dense green mist he could barely see the woman in case – the tears forming in his eyes were hardly helping – hunched over a cauldron and fanning around her madly with an old book.

  
‘Draco, darling, wherever you are, help me out here, will you?’

  
‘Of course.’

  
After dispelling the smoke, Draco helped his mother clean her workbench, the whole while muttering ‘ _honestly_ ’, ‘ _I can’t believe it_ ’ and ‘ _every single time_ ’ grumpily under his breath. When they were finished, Draco turned to her.

  
‘Why were you doing experiments even before dawn? One would think you’d want to conduct your crazy business in day light.’

  
Despite always calling her crazy or mad, the blond never really meant it. In all actuality, he thought his mother was a genius, even if distracted much too often for her own good.

  
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ was the simple answer.

  
‘You _couldn’t sleep_? Why didn’t you make a cup of tea, then? Read a book by candle light?’ Draco exhaled a deep breath. Unbelievable. ‘I swear one day you will burn the house down, mother.’

  
‘Oh, nonsense, nonsense. This was a mere accident – harmless – you see,’ she said, taking off her protection goggles, ‘I forgot to add the belladonna before the asphodel and the state changed too soon, so-‘

  
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ interrupted her son, ‘just, _please_ , refrain from doing it while I’m asleep.’ Draco looked at his mother and smiled fondly. Her white-blond hair was in complete disarray and her cheek was smudged green, but her blue eyes never seemed brighter than when she was practicing “science”, as she called it. A few years ago she would never have allowed even the slightest hair to fall out of place. Narcissa was a beautiful woman and needed little to no effort to look elegant. After his father Lucius had died, however, she had loosened up and stopped acting like a socialite to dedicate herself to her new passion, which she did at the most odd hours, and that more often than not resulted in weird concoctions or explosions.

  
‘Are you hungry, dear? I myself could eat a horse.’ Narcissa laughed at Draco’s astounded expression and patted his shoulder lightly, ‘Come, Draco, why don’t you go make some tea and toast while I wash and change?’

  
They left the basement together, climbing up the steps to the hall hand in hand.

 

* * *

  
After breakfast with his mother, Draco decided to walk to the near village and give back the book he had borrowed to the librarian. The Malfoy Manor, how Draco’s home was called, was built in an estate a couple of leagues away from a very little town that was his nearest source of civilization. Even so, Draco would - most of the time - rather stay at home among his numerous books, than have to meet the villagers, little people whom he considered narrow-minded and foolish, many of them illiterate of their own will, living every day like the one before. _One can’t have it all, it seems_ , he thought, while strolling towards the library, skilfully avoiding the hectic passersby and their loose animals, ignoring the whispers that always followed his back wherever he went.

  
The local people disliked Draco and his mother for being different and not following their provincial way of life. They did not believe that there could ever be anything beyond their little existence, more to see, more to live. Draco, for one, did not understand their obsession with marrying idiots as soon as possible for the sake of having children or snatching the prettiest bride before all others. He did not want that insignificant life. The blond wished to see and learn wonderful things, to experience great love and adventure and only settle down when he was certain all his wishes (or at least the most realistic ones) could be fulfilled.

  
Finally at the library’s door, Draco peeked inside and, on seeing it devoid of its owner, entered and called out, ‘Hello? Severus, it’s me Draco, are you in?’ He looked inside the door behind the counter that he knew led to a small office, but saw no one.

  
‘Yes.’

  
Draco jumped when the man spoke slowly from behind him and promptly whirled round to glare at the one who had frightened him.

  
‘Must you do this every single time? Honestly, you and mother should be friends.’

  
‘Why should I refrain from... doing that which... amuses me so... greatly?’ said Severus Snape, the owner of the single establishment Draco enjoyed visiting in the village. Snape was a tall and thin man, with dark, greasy, shoulder-length hair surrounding his face, which was dominated by a large and beaky nose. Severus had the habit of always dressing in black and speaking with long pauses within his sentences, a fact that Draco suspected was on purpose, in order to annoy the impatient and rather uncultured villagers. His black hawk-like eyes seemed to always analyze situations and judge cruelly in silence. With all sincerity, Draco thought him disagreeable most of the time, but had always respected and admired him greatly, if only for his knowledge of the world.

  
‘Right. You’re not even smiling. No matter, I’ve come to return _this_ to you.’ The blond gave the older man his book and proceeded to search for a new one. ‘Have you got anything new?’

  
‘Finished already? Well... this breaks your... record, I believe. What was it, twelve hours? And... no, nothing new, not since... _yesterday_.’

  
‘ _Eight_ hours, actually. I couldn’t put it down.’ Admitted Draco. There were times, when it came to reading, in which he would lose himself in a book, neglecting food, sleep and all else. He had tons of books at the manor, of course, but he had already read those more than once and often longed for a fresh one. ‘It was simply fascinating.’ The young man was perched dreamily atop a ladder, staring at the distance and sporting a goofy grin.

  
‘I see. I am glad. As soon as I have anything...new, I will... contact you.’

  
‘Alright. Meanwhile, I’m taking this.’ Draco pulled out a worn out red book from one of the shelves, showing it to the librarian. He climbed down the ladder while the other took it in hand and read the title.

  
‘You...do realise this is the... third time you take this one?’ asked Snape, as if he was trying to communicate with a stupid animal.

  
‘Yes, it’s my favourite: distant kingdoms, magical animals, daring swordfights, a prince...’ Draco could not help the dreamy smile at the last part, but quickly dropped it and blushed when he saw the other smirking at his tiny slip.

  
‘I see... Very well, then. If you... like it all that much, it is yours to keep.’

  
‘Oh, no! I-I couldn’t possibly- You’re too kind, but-’on seeing Snape smiling, a rare sight in itself, he beamed back and accepted the gift. ‘Thank you, I really appreciate it.’

  
Draco started reading it as soon as he stepped outside the library, unconsciously avoiding collisions and obstacles without ever looking away from the pages that enchanted him so immensely. Until another’s hand grabbed the object of his attention to hang it over his head, that is. The young man was forced to look up, then, and instantly grimaced at the sight of his least favourite person in the whole universe.

  
‘Bonjour, Draco, my dear, aren’t you happy to see me this very fine morning?’

  
‘Bonjour, Riddle. Please give up touching what isn’t yours and give me my book back.’

  
‘Oh, so cold so early in the day,’ Riddle said in mock-hurt, turning to the book and frowning, ‘how can you read such a thing? There are no images!’

  
The blond rolled his eyes, ‘Well, I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Riddle, but some people use their imagination.’ Draco jumped quickly and grabbed the book back, glaring at the taller man in front of him.

  
Tom Riddle was the town’s most influent man and the biggest brute Draco had ever had de displeasure of being acquainted with. He had a very broad and strong build and arms the size of the blonde’s thighs, which made him look like a gorilla when they were resting by his sides (a fact that Draco thought very disturbing). Riddle’s hair was dark brown and held in a rough plaid at the back of his neck; he always walked about with a weapon of some sort – either a crossbow or a firearm – and was followed by his even more moronic squire, Wormtail, who was never quite able to keep up and could now be seen running towards them from the end of the street.

  
‘I-I-I am so sorry, master; I got s-stuck in a bush,’ panted Wormtail when he reached them.

  
Riddle’s attention was then on his incompetent servant and Draco took it as his cue to finally escape them. All too soon, nevertheless, the brute caught up with him, strolling alongside the blond as though they had decided to take a walk together from the very start. Annoyed, the young man stopped and schooled his features into the most gracious smile he could wear in the presence of the other.

  
‘What is it, Tom? This is hardly the path to your cottage.’

  
‘Oh, nothing much, Draco, dear, it’s just that we enjoy each other’s company _so much_ , I couldn’t deny both of us the pleasure and decided to walk you home. This is a dangerous place, you know.’

  
_How clueless and conceited could you get?_ Wondered Draco. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t possibly abuse your good will in this manner,’ he tried, ‘the walk is a very long and tiresome one.’ He knew that it was no use, however, by the look on Riddle’s face.

  
‘Rubbish. You know it won’t be a problem for me or _these_ ,’ he said, pointing at his leg muscles, ‘and you are worth the trouble.’ The Blond sighed and conformed to putting up with the brute’s presence.

  
It turned out worse than he had expected. The Riddle idiot could not stop talking about his many qualities and accomplishments, according to himself, anyway. He bragged about the animals he had killed, his latest victory in a brawl – by victory meaning mercilessly beating up that scrawny boy who worked at the bakery into a bloody pulp – and badmouthed every single person in the village who did not adulate him on a daily basis, all the way back to Draco’s house.

  
The road to the Manor was long and wiry, surrounded by thick bushes and tall trees that let only a few beams of sunlight through, so that the atmosphere was one of peace and a sort of eerie magic. Draco enjoyed quite a lot his walks through these woods whenever he needed to get out of the Manor for some reason; he could let his mind wonder as he went, weak sunlight reaching him through leaves that were the colour of copper this time of year, his feet crunching the ones that had already fallen from their branches. Of course, he had only himself or his mother for company on those occasions, which was not the case right at this moment.

‘...or a stag. What do you think, Draco?’

  
The blond snapped his attention back to the brute, ‘about what, Tom?’ He went for a sweet smile, but it came out so fake he was sure it probably looked a lot more like a grimace.

  
‘Should I hang the head of a boar or a stag on my hut’s wall, you think? Asked Riddle, looking at Draco as though he actually cared what the other hung on his wall.

  
‘Oh, I don’t know, don’t you already have enough stuffed animals as it is? Maybe you should leave the poor stags or boars or whatever else it is that you hunt be,’ tried Draco.

  
‘Draco, Draco, you are so sweet, but you don’t _understand_ ,’ said Riddle in a condescending tone that irked the blond to his very core, ‘a true dominant male must have his conquests on display, you see, so that people will see who the real man is.’ He finished with a smug grin and grabbed Draco by the waist, pulling him close and leering into his ear, ‘for instance, if you were in search of a real man, you would know where to look.’

  
_Arrogant brute_. Draco pulled himself out of the other’s grip, pushing at his chest and said, annoyed, ‘Well, I’m not searching, Tom, so you might as well go hang your own head on the wall.’

  
They had arrived at the gates. The blond turned to the taller man and very stiffly bid him goodbye, opening and closing the gates – with him inside – before the other could utter another word, walking towards the house without looking back.

  
‘One day you’ll beg for me, Draco, and you know it!’ Shouted Riddle as the blond ran further into the Manor grounds.

  
_Not even in your dreams, you bastard_ , thought Draco while closing the front doors behind him as he entered the Manor.

* * *

 


End file.
